


Good and Proper

by Nagaina



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut Completely Uncorrupted By Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagaina/pseuds/Nagaina
Summary: What happens when a Christmas day game of Truth or Dare or Drink goes completely right.Sequel to Truth or Dare.





	Good and Proper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ficlicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficlicious/gifts).



> For my beloved Ficlicious' birthday.

By mutual agreement, “right here and now” actually meant “not really on the kitchen table.” For one thing, the children were still awake in the next room over, separated by little more than a demi-wall and a cushion fort and while they’d certainly proved themselves adept at ignoring rowdy drinking games, there were some risks just not worth taking. For another, the table itself was within spitting distance of being an antique, regularly groaned under the weight of the meals served on it, and had a book propping up the one leg that was just a little shorter than all the others. For the third and final thing, putting caps back on all the half-empty bottles and moving them to minimum safe distance was, very simply, a goddamned waste of time better spent on other things.

 

Such as getting Jesse’s exquisitely ass-flattering but incredibly tight jeans off.

 

It took most of the way across the far wall of the rec room on the way to the secondary residential block entrance. Fortunately, if Lucio and Hana were actually still awake they were entirely engrossed in their game. Admittedly, if they weren’t still engrossed and witnessed the entire display, neither of them drew attention to the fact which was, Hanzo decided with the serenity of inebriation, also a perfectly acceptable outcome. The offending garment finally came all the way off only once they were past the residential block door, the boots that would have functioned as anchors lying somewhere in the distance.

 

Jesse’s back hit the corridor wall just as Hanzo’s found their natural place cradling the muscular curves of his ass and dug in despite the force of impact. In the back of his only moderately chemically impaired mind, Hanzo began a series of calculations. Jesse McCree was  _ not _ a small man -- he had a size advantage of at least twenty centimeters in height and a solid thirty kilos in weight, if not more. Manhandling him would require more than his own strength and skill, both somewhat chancy given the amount of alcohol he had consumed, though considering the degree of enthusiasm currently pressing against his belly he felt he could likely count on a quantity of willing assistance.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo murmured against his mouth as he leaned up to savor the lingering taste of whiskey on his tongue. “Will you help me?”

 

“Of course, darlin’.” Jesse replied once he got his lips and his breath back, the lack of oxygen and his own relative state of intoxication not impeding his own efforts in the slightest. Hanzo’s hair fell loose around his already naked shoulders. 

 

“Good.” Hanzo hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Jesse’s briefs, slid them down in one smooth motion, and took possession of what he found lurking inside them -- considerably more than a handful, though he allocated only one hand to the task for the time being, a decision that did not appear to dismay Jesse in the slightest from the resulting startled but pleased sounds.

 

The other hand punched the access panel for the door they leaned against and it was, he was forced to admit, primarily Jesse’s reflexes that prevented them from actually falling backwards onto the floor. He took possession of Jesse’s right hip and adjusted their combined center of gravity long enough to regain footing and walk him backwards, hitting the interior access panel to close and lock the door in passing. Recessed light panels flickered on, providing dim illumination.

 

“Dare I ask whose room we’re in?” Jesse murmured in his ear as he erased the last of the distance between them by virtue of his long, muscular arms, forcing Hanzo to shift his grip, eliciting a groan.

 

“Empty. No one wants to sleep right next to the rec room.” Hanzo planted his feet, rotated his pelvis, requiring Jesse to move with him, and pushed him back against the nearest interior wall, sinking to his knees as they went. “Not even Hana.”

 

“You gotta point about th -- oh.  _ Oh. _ Oh my --” Jesse’s capacity for rational thought and coherent conversation rapidly escaped him, a fact that Hanzo found quite satisfying and proof that his own command of technique had not atrophied from disuse during his many years of solitary wandering. Jesse’s grip on his hair, just short of painful, reinforced that impression, as did the helpless, involuntary movement of his hips and the manner in which his back arched away from the wall. He did, however, politely lock his knees while Hanzo licked him clean and slid the length of his body to capture his mouth again, the kiss long and deep and still hungry, albeit somewhat dazed.

 

“That,” Jesse said once they parted again, still mostly stunned and breathless, “is not exactly what I had in mind when I asked that question. Not that I’m complainin’ but --”

 

“You pictured something...different?” Hanzo slid one of Jesse’s thighs between his own legs, allowed him to feel the precise extent and magnitude of his own interest, and triggered the mechanisms that unfolded the temporary sleeping berth from the bedroom wall and inflated the gel-filled temporary mattress atop it. “As it happens, so did I.” 

 

The look on his face was, for a moment, one of almost comical surprise that melted into a grin so perfectly salacious, accompanied by a deliberate upward grind of his thigh, that it took all of Hanzo strength not to prop his leg up and fuck his brains out right against the wall. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

The berth sang its little  _ finished _ tone and instead Hanzo stepped back just far enough to allow him to move. “Make yourself comfortable.”

 

Jesse, damn his pretty brown eyes, somehow managed to  _ sashay _ the two feet it took to reach the side of the berth, his hips and the curves of his ass offering an unambiguous invitation, and cast a teasing glance over his shoulder. In a single lithe movement he spread himself out on the mattress with a level of limbs-sprawling, legs-parting, hair in artful disarray and skin already glistening with sweat dramatics that Hanzo vaguely regretted having neither a camera nor a phone handy to record the moment for posterity. “You are incorrigible.” 

 

“Y’all love it.” Jesse grinned wickedly up at him. “C’mon over here and corrige me, darlin’.”

 

Hanzo shook his head, removed the items he prepared from the inner pocket of the yukata still hanging around his waist, and divested himself of the remains of his own clothing. Jesse’s brow inclined as he tossed the small, unmarked cardboard box onto the bed next to him and popped open the cap of the bottle he held. “I’m startin’ to think you may have planned this out in advance.”

 

“One must always be prepared for opportunities to arise.” The lubricant was water-based, only lightly scented, and non-heating and Jesse did not even pretend to hold back the sounds of his enjoyment as he began applying it where it would do the most good. “Though I am not above making my own luck.”

 

“Should’a known you were up t’something, when you suggested that game.” Jesse’s eyelids drifted to half-mast, his expression carved in planes of light and shadow and pleasure. “You don’t seem the playin’ sort.”

 

“I am not.” He rolled the prophylactic into place, applied a judicious quantity of lubricant. “It has been some time for you?”

 

“That it has.” Jesse agreed and guided him into place with hands and helpful legs and canted hips. “You --”

Whatever he was about to say vanished in a low, throaty sound that was not entirely a moan but close to it as Hanzo slid into him in a single stroke. For a moment neither of them moved, instead closing their eyes and shivering gently at the sensation. Then Jesse’s absurdly long and muscular legs wrapped around his waist and Jesse’s utterly wanton hips rolled unmistakable encouragement and the pace Hanzo set immediately thereafter was just short of punishing, which did not seem to trouble him in the least, from the sounds that escaped him. Hanzo’s own awareness of the world shrank to those sounds, their pitch and length and how he could vary both with a slight chance of pace, an alteration of angle, the warmth of his lover’s body beneath him and around him, the slow building heat of his own peak. Jesse’s grip, inside and out, tightened around him as his pace grew more erratic, his ability to concentrate fracturing under the intensity of the blood pulsing in his head, the pleasure running hot through his veins, curling down his spine. He was nearly there when Jesse reached up, curled a hand into his hair, and half-purred, half-growled, “Come for me, darlin’.”

 

It might as well have been a command, for his body yielded to it a heartbeat later, orgasm washing through him in a burst of white hot pleasure, sweeping away thought and emotion and leaving only the awareness of itself behind, of Jesse’s hands in his hair and Jesse’s sweat-slick skin beneath his hands and the taste of Jesse’s mouth as he drew them together. Jesse was, in fact, the far more coordinated of the two as they rolled just barely apart, enough to roll and tie off the condom, disposing of it somewhere off the far end of the bed well away from anyone’s clothes, and then curling back together. Hanzo shivered slightly as the cool air made itself felt and Jesse searched about until he found one of the vacuum sealed blankets stashed in the supply compartment mounted in the wall above the bed, unzipping it, fluffing it out, spreading it over them both. Snuggled belly-to-belly, there was just enough room for both of them on the bed, more than enough beneath the blanket, and Hanzo tucked his face in the angle of Jesse’s neck and shoulder as all the remaining strength fled him in the warmth, the gentle pulse of joined breath and heartbeats, the aftermath of pleasure.

 

He was nearly asleep when Jesse stirred, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “For the record? I think I won this round.”

 

Hanzo could, for the moment, think of no reason to argue that point.

  
  



End file.
